The Final Shot
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: A depressing story of what could be the end for Ste and Brendan. Warning: character death.


**Warning: Character death**

There was no one else he could turn to.

"We can sort this. It's ok. It's ok."

Brendan held his face tightly in his hands, with Ste's tears dripping over them. He wasn't sure who Brendan was trying to convince, but he nodded anyway.

He gasped in a breath, crying out loud. "What've I done Brendan?"

Brendan pulled him tightly to his chest, stroking his fingers softly through his hair.

"You did what we'd all've done Stephen." And whilst it didn't comfort him all that much, he knew Brendan was being honest.

After a moment's silence, Brendan's face turned serious. "Where's the body?"

/

He'd been at home, eating a sarnie with his feet up on the sofa when he heard a deafening thud when the front door was kicked in. He jumped up, confronted by a burly man with a threatening grimace.

He grabbed Ste by the front of his t-shirt. "Brendan Brady. Where is he?"

"I dunno!" he replied helplessly.

For this, he got a thump, smack in his shoulder. "Don't lie to me."

Ste staggered back, clutching his shoulder. "I told ya. I don't know where he is,"

The man grabbed Ste by the ear and ignored his yelps of pain. "A little birdie tells me you and him are shift-lifters, so I'll ask again you queer. Where's Brendan Brady?"

Ste panicked. His heart sped in his chest. The kids were just a room away and if Lucas cried, this man would be in there in a shot, who knows what lows he'd stoop to.

He couldn't tell this guy where Brendan was, he guessed he must be something to do with Warren Fox and that would never end well for Brendan. Without a second's hesitation, Ste threw the steaming mug of tea, which sat on the coffee table, over the man's face. He cowered in agony. With all the fury he could muster, Ste kicked him. And when he was bent down, Ste took the mug and smashed it into the man's skull until it shattered and the thug bled.

"You little bastard," he cried, touching the bloody wound.

But Ste couldn't stop there. He kicked and kicked until the man's groans stopped and he was left listening to his own deafening gasps of breath. Ste couldn't even be sure where his kicks had landed but by the bloodied expression on the man's still face, he'd taken more blows to the head than he could survive.

Howling in shock, Ste fell to the floor, his hands inspecting the lifeless body on the floor. It all came out in his tears. How this had all begun, how it had come to this. How a man they had all thought to be dead had caused all this. First it was money he'd wanted, then it was the club, then it was dodgy dealings, drugs and running Brendan into the ground. He'd taken up drinking in a big way and been distant, absent – staying in hotels and trying to remain anonymous in B'nBs. Ste hated seeing Brendan so weak, so powerless knowing Warren had one over on him.

/

Brendan kissed him and then they buried the body together. It wasn't the couple-y activity that Ste had had in mind. He'd sobbed the entire time and was barely any use to Brendan. He'd snapped once and then seen the state of Ste and taken it back immediately, knowing that they were both in the same sorry state now.

Ste wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked at Brendan leaning against the shovel.

"Warren's going to find out, i'n't he?" Ste said quietly.

Brendan looked over. "Are the kids safe?"

Ste swallowed and nodded quickly. "With Amy,"

"Then we need to leave," Brendan said, picking up the spade and wiping dirt across his forehead.

"Leave?" Ste asked, "Go where?"

"Out of Hollyoaks. As far away from here as possible."

Ste watched Brendan's face, he had a strange expression. It was as though these words were coming from somewhere else, his voice was detached and he wasn't making eye contact with him. He rubbed his hands through his hair.

"We'll lie low for a while until I can get us some passports and then we'll just pick somewhere and go."

"Abroad?" Ste cried, "But the kids…"

Exasperated Brendan threw the shovel over and took a hold of Ste, shaking him a little, "What choice do we have Stephen? If we don't leave you'll end up in prison or six feet under, what would you rather? Huh?"

Ste wanted another option, one that meant they could carry on as normal, but instead he tried to stop himself from crying anymore and stepped into Brendan's arms.

/

Ste wasn't sure how Brendan could sleep so soundly. It made Ste wonder just how many cover ups like this Brendan might have done. But he saw fear in his eyes somewhere and knew that whatever his past, he didn't take things like this lightly. It'd be another layer of darkness.

Ste tried nestling into the warm of Brendan's chest and closed his eyes. He thought about the long car journey they'd had to this hotel in the middle of the country, how in any other circumstance he might have been excited at another trip to a hotel, another slow fuck on a king size mattress. But it was the first time that the sex had felt so different, comforting but distant, like neither knew if they would ever see it through to the morning again. So much had changed.

He stroked over the length of Brendan's fingers. It would be so easy to lay there forever.

But he was growing irritated by his own insomnia. He untangled himself from Brendan's embrace and knowing they'd drunk the complementary coffee, he slipped on some clothes and headed down the corridor to the machine that he'd spotted on the way up to the room.

But as the cup started filling, he never got the chance to drink it.

/

When Brendan woke he called out for Ste, feeling his absence. When he got no reply, Brendan checked the bathroom and then panicking, he quickly dressed.

He had poked his head out of the corridor, ready to explore the floor when his mobile began to ring.

Number withheld.

The line was crackly, but he recognised the tearful voice on the other end.

"Brendan…."

"Stephen!"

Brendan heard nothing more from him, just a cry in the background and muffled voices.

"This is your final warning Brendan," Warren threatened, his voice a slimy drone, "Bring me the money you owe me and we can forget all about this."

"Yeah and what if I don't?" Brendan said, although he could hear his own voice falter. He knew.

"Well," Warren began, giving a little laugh, "You can say goodbye to your little boyfriend." Warren paused, "One hour Brendan, the clock is ticking. As for _Stephen_, you can be sure if you're not here on time it's going to be a slow and painful process for him."

In the background Brendan heard Ste shout, "You fucking-!" before his mouth was clearly covered by Warren's hand.

"Oooh!" Warren minced, "He's got a mouth on him! Although I expect it comes in use for you eh Brendan?"

Brendan was staggering to sit, struggling with how to respond. He was losing it. "I'll be there. Tell me where and I'll get the money, I'll be there. Don't touch him. If you wanna settle the score then be a man and kill me instead."

"Cos you know all about being a man don't you Brendan?" It still chilled him hearing things that confirmed his hatred of himself.

"One hour Brendan. I've left you the address by the mirror." Sure enough there was a hotel card placed on an empty saucer by the television. He couldn't imagine how he'd even managed to put it there.

/

The journey there was hell. Rain lashed at the windscreen and the car seemed to rattle along at a snail's pace. Ste's life ticked away. Brendan's only comfort was that Ste was brave, resilient; he wouldn't go down without a fight. But he hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't come to that.

He didn't have the money. He'd lifted the club's takings before they'd packed and left, but that didn't even covered half of what he'd owed Warren. There was a big sum behind his silence and framing him for Danny's murder had only made the price increase. He had no idea how he was going to free himself of this ransom, he would throw everything at it possible – he'd let Warren take everything he owned – although thanks to him that was very little these days – but he knew people with shed loads of coke that would let Warren in on deals if he gave the say so.

Manically he drove, unable to see any positive outcome. He sensed charm and persuasion wouldn't cut it with Warren. They'd fought to be top dog long enough for Brendan to know that Warren had very few weakness. He had mistakenly believed he'd kept one of his greatest weaknesses a secret.

/

The warehouse had been burnt to the ground and looked like it had been charred like that for years. It was crying out for men like Warren to drag their victims there, somewhere where no one could hear you scream.

Brendan shivered as he entered the building, his footsteps echoing as he stepped over rubble and debris. He couldn't deny it; he was overwhelmed with an unshakable dread.

He saw Warren first, dressed bulkily and grinning to himself with his head lit dimly by flood light outside. As he edged nearer he saw Ste in the shadows, on his knees and head down, Warren with a gun pressed to the side of his skull. Brendan could faintly hear that Warren was speaking to him, but couldn't make out any words.

"Oh! And right on time!" Warren cried as he spotted Brendan's presence. He grabbed Ste's hair with his free hand and pulled up his head.

Brendan tried not to wince at the obvious bruised and bleeding on Ste's face. His tearful eyes got to him the most, like he'd given up. He watched his jaw tighten, like he was rearming himself.

"As you can see," Warren said, nodding his head towards the gun, "I'm not here to play games."

"You've made your threats Warren. Leave Stephen out of this, this is between me and you,"

Warren flexed his fingers around the gun and ran it down and back up the nape of Ste's neck. Ste's eyes squeezed shut and Brendan sped forward. Shakily he took an envelope of cash from the inside of his jacket.

When Warren opened it he laughed and threw it to the ground.

"Are you serious?"

"You didn't give me enough time Foxy," Brendan said, his face twitching, "I can get it all for you tomorrow. Or we can make another deal, I know where you can get…."

"Tomorrow isn't good enough Brendan." Warren gritted his teeth and looked down at Ste who was trembling, tears rolling down his face.

"Please. Please!" Brendan snapped, dragging his fingers down his face, "I'll get you what you want, I'll get you more. Put the gun down and walk away."

"You break your promises Brendan. But if I put the bullet through his head, I've a sneaking suspicion that might hurt a bit more than losing out on some money,"

"Well kill me instead then. Then you can have anything and you won't have me in the way anymore!" Brendan said, pushing out his shoulders like an animal ready to fight.

"No!" Ste cried before he felt a sharp kick of Warren's boot.

"Did I say you could speak Ste? Eh?" Warren said, lowering his grimacing face to Ste. "Next time maybe you should get into bed with someone that isn't a murdering scumbag, might stop these sorts of situations happening." Warren stood up and spat at him before turning back to Brendan. "Ready to say goodbye then Brady?"

The next few seconds were adrenaline and tears. Brendan knew he was crying, he felt them cold and invasive as he leapt forward in one final, last movement to save Stephen. But Warren had guessed exactly his next move and the shot was fired before either had a chance to blink. It soared straight through Brendan's chest and he stumbled, losing his footing and crashing to the floor.

Ste's rage screamed through him and with every charged, angered fibre he monopolised Warren's immediate shock, ripping the gun from his hands and with a single shot, fired a bullet through his head.

Wiping his wet face with his sleeve and throwing the gun to one side, Ste hurtled himself to Brendan's heaped body. He crouched to the floor, picking up his head and shoulders in his arms. Brendan's eyes flickered open and sucked in breaths through his teeth. There was a trickle of dark blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

"You're gonna be alright," Ste said, holding Brendan to his chest and looking down at the wound. He moved Brendan's hands so he pressed against the wound, he had no idea what to do, but he'd seen similar on telly and they always told you to apply pressure.

"Stephen…" Brendan said, voice a thin whisper as he tried to keep eye contact.

"It's all my stupid fault," Ste sobbed.

"It's not,"

"You shouldn't talk," Ste said, "You should save your energy. I need to call for help,"

"No," Brendan croaked, "You'll be arrested,"

Ste cried. "I don't care."

"I do,"

"But you're hurt,"

He tried to smile. "But you're okay,"

"I'm not. I'm worried about you,"

"I'm fine." Brendan lifted a bloodied hand to Ste's face, holding his cheek. His breathing was getting more erratic and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. "Promise me that you'll get out of here,"

"I don't want to go. Not without you." Ste held onto Brendan's hand, pushing his other hand on top of Brendan's which covered the wound.

"Stephen…"

"I can't…"

"Promise me,"

"I…" he gulped for breath, "I promise, ok?"

Brendan smiled a little, he had to at Ste's sudden frustration in his voice. "Stephen. I love you,"

Ste's mouth shook realising the goodbye in Brendan's words. He kissed the side of his face, aching with sobs.

"I love you too," he said to Brendan, for the first and last time.

And for one last moment their eyes met. And then he was gone.


End file.
